Why do I keep doing it to myself? Inspired by perfect pictures of other people and their kids doing outdoorsy stuff on sunny spring afternoons I think ‘We could – should – do that too.’
And thus it was that I set off for the bluebell woods at Foxley for an afternoon of sunny springtime loveliness. The Internet had made it sound delightful.
The best part of an hour to get there. The best part of the trip. Unless you like good music – we had Now That’s What I Call a Party! on the CD player. The playlist is terrible. But then I’m probably not its target audience.
No, Noodles and Boo are its target and every good record label knows who calls the shots on medium to long car journeys, if only because driving to the tunes of a school disco is preferable to the sound of whinging.
My eardrums may have been bleeding, but we arrived in one piece and with no one covered in vomit – well, that’s one up on last time! We really shouldn’t have got out of the car.
‘I don’t want to be heeeeeere.’ Boo whinged from the off. ‘I want to go hooooommmme.’
It didn’t then help that she promptly walked into a car’s wing mirror.
Noodles was all right though. He ran off ahead, as is his style…
When I’d let him do neither he joined in with Boo’s chorus: ‘Go home! Go home! Go home!’
The path was a bog. Both were in shoes (Noodles having trashed his boots at the beach a few months ago when depth perception of the sea and the concept of ‘paddling’ we’re both beyond him; Boo had left her wellies in the car). Boo freaked out at a butterfly. I called it a day.
We’d been there all of 15 minutes.
I decided to take them to Tesco instead. Ha! That’ll teach them! And at least their glum little faces fit right in with the other customers.
And I’m not going to think my family as being capable of playing keep-up with the other families on Facebook. We’re clearly a different breed.